Higher Purpose
by LifeOnTheMoon
Summary: A day in the life of Tom Riddle before he became the feared Dark Lord.


"There is only power, and those too weak to seek it."

That was his mantra. It was what he chanted to himself as he performed menial tasks for Caractus Burke (a wizard far inferior to himself). Because he was not one of the weak ones. He knew that his name would one day strike terror into the hearts of those who heard it. But it wasn't his time yet. He had to plan and plot his rise. And even though being an assistant to a mediocre wizard was demeaning to say the least, it allowed him access to objects that were rare and incredibly powerful.

* * *

"Riddle," Burke said barked.

"Yes sir?" Tom Riddle said, hating that name, hating the person who said it and above all hating his need to be servile.

"Hepzibah Smith," Burke said. "She asked for you. Apparently you made quite an impression on her the last time she came in."

"I aim to please," Riddle said, the softness of his voice disguising its venom.

"She requested you come for a house visit," Burke said, his tone slightly mocking now. "She seemed fairly besotted by you. Insisted that only you would do."

Riddle frowned. He didn't enjoy house visits, and he vaguely remembered Hepzibah Smith as a rather annoying, extremely fat woman, who wore too much make up and unflattering clothes. This would no doubt be an incredibly uneventful visit. She would probably make him eat cake. For some reason all these fat old woman always had piles of cake lying around their houses, that they forced on unsuspecting guests.

"When would I have to go?" Tom asked, his expression flat, giving none of his distaste for the proposition away.

"Tomorrow if possible," Burke said, an annoying smirk still on his face. "She just asked for that old piece of Morgana's robe that we have but I'll send along a Hand of Glory too. I'm sure you'll be able to convince her of its…ah…usefulness."

"I'm sure I will sir," Riddle said, his face remaining utterly expressionless.

* * *

The next day dawned almost annoyingly bright and sunny. Riddle found himself on Hepzibah Smith's doorstep cursing both his employer and the stupid woman who had summoned him there. He knocked on the door and a rather old and decrepit House Elf opened it.

"Mistress is expecting you," the House Elf said and Riddle had to suppress a sneer at the pathetic creature in the linen toga.

"Tom!" Hepzibah Smith said, excitedly as he walked into her living room. Her jowly face quivered with excitement. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Well you requested me," Riddle said politely.

Hepzibah blushed. "Of course," she said. "After all you are my favourite Borgin and Burke's employee."

"Thank you ma'am," he said, continuing to play the perfect gentleman. "It's always a pleasure."

Hepzibah Smith blushed even more, seeming quite thrilled by him. "Do you have what I asked for?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "Morgana's robe as requested."

"Ah thank you," she said holding out her hand. "I only needed Morgana you know. I've got artifacts from Merlin, Arthur and Morgause already. I'm quite a collector."

"Indeed," Riddle said indifferently.

Perhaps sensing his lagging interest Hepzibah Smith quite quickly said, "Of course I don't only have relics of Camelot. My most prized possessions is probably an old family heirloom. It was why I started collecting in the first place."

"If you want to add to your collection may I suggest-" Riddle started.

"It's what has fuelled my passion," Hepzibah said, ignoring him. "After all, it isn't as though there is much left from the Founders."

"The Founders?" Riddle asked, his curiosity peaked. Surely she couldn't mean…

"Of Hogwarts of course my dear boy," she said.

And a sudden rush of elation ran through Tom Riddle's body. This was it, he thought. This was why he had spent those countless hours working at Borgin and Burkes. Helping worthless witches and wizards pick out trinkets. And it was all thanks to Hepzibah Smith, something which he certainly hadn't seen coming.

"Are you alright Tom?" Hepzibah asked, her face clouding over a little.

"Of course ma'am," he said, easily sliding back into his helpful salesman persona. "May I interest you in a Hand of Glory. There are very few around. It would be a great addition to your collection."

Hepzibah chuckled. "I'm afraid I have one already Tom," she said. "Tell Mr. Burke he'll have to do better than that if he wants me to part with my money."

"I'll pass on the message," Riddle said. The sides of his mouth moved up into a smile but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Maybe one of those Aderran Crystals," Hepzibah mused. "I saw them the last time I was at the shop but I wasn't sure if I wanted to buy it."

"I'll be here next Tuesday with them," Riddle promised. "I'll make sure I deliver them personally. After all, I wouldn't want to miss meeting my favourite customer."

Hepzibah giggled rather foolishly and once again Riddle marveled at the stupidity and vapidity of ordinary people.

"I'm looking forward to it," she said. "And as a treat for being such a wonderful help I might even show you my collection."

"I can't wait," Riddle said. This was possibly the only true statement he had made since he arrived. And he really couldn't wait. Whatever was in that fat old woman's vault was calling to him. They wished to be removed from there, he could tell. They wanted to be used for a higher purpose. His purpose.

* * *

**a/n: So another oneshot. It's a little different from what I usually write but I hope you like it. Ollivander Challenge week 4.**


End file.
